


Holding Pattern

by caskettcase



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, basically post 3x04 but doesn't take into account 3x05, jealous!Clarke, little bit of, my manipulative problematic fave, these two idiots getting their crap together, this ship will ruin me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caskettcase/pseuds/caskettcase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Maybe life is about more than your people’s survival. It’s about your survival too. Maybe you need to do something for yourself once in awhile, Clarke.”</p>
<p>The rest of the words went unsaid but Clarke knew exactly the moment Lexa was calling her back to.</p>
<p>Don’t we deserve better than that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> So two weeks ago I got sucked into this glorious fandom, and now I am complete and utter Clexa trash. This is it. This is the ship that will ruin me, so to at least try and get some of it out of my system (I know that won't happen lolz), I present my first Clexa fic. For my Bechloe fandom friends who are reading GMS- I'm sorry. I haven't updated because these two idiots have completely swept me off my feet. Chapter four is halfway done. I just need to push through and finish it. I'm trying! 
> 
> But anyway. Clexa. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own The 100 or Clexa or anything. I think we all know that Eliza Taylor basically owns Clexa anyway.

Clarke had spent the past two weeks back in Arkadia, running damage control over Pike’s insanity and what seemed to be Bellamy’s inability to think for himself. She hadn’t seen Lexa since the commander left to return to Polis, sometimes sending a usually unwilling Indra when she needed to, who begrudgingly gave Clarke short messages from Lexa, things like, “I wish I could come visit you; the Nightbloods have reached a critical period in their training, and I must stay,” or “I hope all is well back in Arkadia.”

Clarke didn’t blame Lexa for not wanting to come to Arkadia. She certainly believed the woman when she said that she had plenty to do in the capital, but she also knew Lexa well enough to know that facing the scenery where she rode up on her horse to find her peace army dead was probably not something she wanted to do. At this point, Lexa was probably feeling what she did about Queen Nia about Chancellor Pike, albeit on a smaller level.

Besides, they were just starting to get along again.

Maybe a little distance would be good for Clarke.

Help her think about forgiving Lexa without her slinky black nightgown, the exposed back tattoos, her hair falling freely in waves compared to her tightly-put-together braids, her smooth, exposed leg peeking out teasingly.

It was definitely for the best.

As much as she’d wanted to call Lexa back to her room that night a few weeks ago after the fight with Roan, she knew her carnal instincts would take over. Lexa was wildly attractive. That was not something Clarke could ever deny. And Lexa was clearly fighting for Clarke. And Clarke had a bunch of very intense feelings she needed to work through, intense feelings that would have made her throw herself at Lexa.

Yes. Definitely for the best.

But this time when Indra had come to town, it was to retrieve Clarke, as she was needed back in the capital for a summit with all of the ambassadors to discuss keeping the peace among all the clans. She tried to ignore the flutter in her heart that grew more and more powerful every step her horse took closer to Polis.

She had been able to see the tall building where Lexa resided from a long distance away. It made getting there seem that much longer, and when they finally pulled through the gates of Polis (Indra barely having spoken the entire way, of course), she wasted no time in weaving her way through the people of the town to get to the tower.

“Wanheda,” the guards acknowledged her with a nod as she made her way inside, and her stomach started doing flips.

So she was excited to see Lexa. Whatever. No big deal.

She followed Indra up into the throne room, where the guards opened the doors to reveal a pleased-looking Titus, who greeted Clarke with a smile and a bow.

“Welcome back to Polis, Ambassador.”

Clarke nodded politely, fighting off a smile at the fact that she was so accepted here.

“Good to be back.”

She peered around Titus to see Lexa in her throne, handmaidens all around her fussing over her—one neatly arranging her braids, one shining the boots on the commander’s feet, another working out kinks in the commander’s shoulders and arms. She must have just gotten in from training with the Nightbloods.

She loved seeing Lexa like this—not completely in full commander mode. But Clarke’s eyes narrowed as one of the women tending to Lexa gave her a coy smile, her hand brushing along Lexa’s shoulder in a manner that seemed less than professional.

Oh.

She barely caught Lexa smiling back politely before looking back up to spot Clarke.

But Clarke ignored Lexa for a moment and turned her gaze upon the handmaiden.

Lexa had bowed to her, sworn fealty to her, waited for her, made heart eyes at her, given Clarke everything she could handle.

But one shy, shared glance from another woman, and suddenly Clarke was seeing fire behind her eyes.

“Clarke,” Lexa finally spoke, that distinctive K that she always enunciated drawing Clarke’s attention back.

She glared behind Lexa at the attendant braiding her hair, frowning as she said, “If I’m interrupting something, I can leave and come back.”

“Of course not,” Lexa replied, seeming a bit confused. “I told Indra to bring you here once you got back.”

“Well, you seem busy enough being poked and prodded, so I’ll go,” she replied coolly, eyeing Lexa, almost daring her to ask her to stay.

Just like Lexa had done to her when she turned to walk out of her room a few weeks ago.

Lexa eyed her right back, tilting her chin up and swallowing in that way she always did when she seemed to be at an impasse with Clarke.

“Leave us.”

Titus and the other attendants left at Lexa’s command, leaving her unfinished braids coming undone all around her face.

She was beautiful. So, so beautiful.

And Clarke didn’t want anyone else touching her like that.

Lexa rose from her throne, striding down the carpet walkway with a concerned look on her face, and Clarke noticed she was wearing that same. Damn. Nightgown.

In broad daylight.

_That melodramatic, powerful, sexy, cunning…_

“Is everything okay, Clarke?”

_Well, not that your leg decided to come out to play again. No. I’m not okay._

“I’m fine,” Clarke said through gritted teeth, refusing to let her eyes drift over Lexa’s body. “Arkadia’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

She knew from the look on Lexa’s face that she didn’t believe her. She also knew that Lexa knew Clarke well enough to not push it.

“Well, thank you for returning to Polis on such short notice.”

“Just doing what’s right for my people.”

There it was again. Her thinly-veiled defense. Such an obvious defense that she was sure that Lexa would eventually see through it. Her thinly-veiled defense that seemed to tear a little more every time Lexa looked at her with those big green eyes. Her defense that, after a few moments of tense silence, couldn’t stop her from husking out, “I like your hair better without the braids.”

Lexa’s lips quirked up into a rare smile—god, Clarke loved that she was the one who put it there—seemingly amused by Clarke’s lapse in judgment. Lexa’s smile got even wider when she responded.

“Better for your people?”

Oh.

Her thinly-veiled defense that Lexa had already seen through.

Clarke could barely keep her voice from trembling. “I’m sorry?”

Lexa shrugged nonchalantly. “It seems every time you do something considerate for someone lately, at least for me, you’ve said you’re doing it all for your people.”

“I’m very loyal to them. I am the Ambassador,” she shot back without missing a beat.

Lexa considered her carefully, offering another small smirk before saying, “And yet here you are, not jumping at my throat like your chancellor would be.”

“Pike’s a dumbass,” she deadpanned, to which Lexa only quirked an eyebrow.

Clarke rolled her eyes, the full meaning of the insult obviously being lost on Lexa.

“Another Sky People word for “idiot,” “bad leader,” the list goes on. It’s used for people we don’t like.”

Lexa only nodded in assent, that smirk still plastered to her lips.

“Look,” Clarke began, closing the several feet of distance between the two of them. “Just because a few of them are being ridiculous, doesn’t mean the rest of them haven’t realized that they’ve gone too far. A lot of them are still wary of trusting you, but some of them are coming around.”

“And you?”

Clarke stopped in her tracks a few feet away from Lexa.

“What of me?” she replied, knowing full well already what Lexa was asking.

“Are you still wary of trusting me?”

As much as Clarke wanted to me, she wasn’t. Clarke knew that Lexa still had feelings for her. She didn’t hide it very well. But Clarke also didn’t try to let that sway her decision to let Lexa back in again.

But she couldn’t help herself.

Clarke wanted her—Commander of the Twelve (Thirteen) Clans, warpaint and all.

She was entranced by every part of Lexa.

It was what made seeing her like this—so vulnerable—so special. Because Clarke knew without a shadow of a doubt that almost no one saw this side of Lexa on a regular basis. She led with her head and not her heart, and that meant looking and acting the part as well.

Beyond that, Clarke was entranced by her intense love for her people.

She would do anything for them as their leader. And Clarke understood that.

Which is why, in spite of Mount Weather, in spite of her leaving, in spite of the feel of her lips pressed against Clarke’s that made her heart take off like a rocket only to have those same lips murmur apologies for such deep wounds, Clarke was forgiving her.

Slowly but surely.

“No. Because I would have made the same choice that you did at Mount Weather.”

Clarke swallowed her pride and let the next words tumble out without thinking too much.

“I do trust you, Lexa. You’ve proven yourself. You are proving yourself.”

“And I trust you, Clarke.”

They both knew that it was Wanheda who had bowed to Heda, while it was Lexa who had sworn fealty to Clarke.

This was Clarke swearing the same to Lexa.

“Don’t screw it up again,” Clarke shot back lightly, trying to diffuse the rapidly rising tension in the room.

But Lexa didn’t seem too keen on letting her run this time. Because that was all it was.

Clarke wanted Lexa.

But she also wanted Lexa to chase after her a little bit, as selfish as it was.

She needed the reminder—Lexa wouldn’t betray her.

“If that’s what’s best for your people, Clarke, then I promise you I will not betray you again.”

And now Lexa was gunning for her.

“Good. Because it is. What’s best for my people.”

Clarke could either keep running, and Lexa would quickly back off again, or Clarke could let her catch her.

She slowed down and let Lexa catch up, blue eyes falling on Lexa’s lips as she slid just a few inches closer into her personal space.

Lexa tilted her chin up again and swallowed, trying to maintain some sort of composure as Clarke leaned in just a bit closer.

Lexa knew exactly what she was doing with that nightgown.

And Clarke knew exactly what she was doing now.

It was what they did—Clarke and Lexa—they danced around each other in a holding pattern.

Clarke knew she was about to crash.

“You truly are doing a lot for your people lately, Clarke. Maybe—“

But she cut Lexa off. “I told you. I’m—“

“Let me finish.”

She spoke in a stern enough tone to make Clarke’s mouth clamp shut but playful enough to know that they were still playing a game with each other. Flirting, maybe even. God, who even knew what Grounder dating rituals entailed in post-apocalyptic Earth.

“Maybe life is about more than your people’s survival. It’s about your survival too. Maybe you need to do something for yourself once in awhile, Clarke.”

The rest of the words went unsaid but Clarke knew exactly the moment Lexa was calling her back to.

_Don’t we deserve better than that?_

She took one inch closer for all the lies she’d been fed on the Ark—about her parents, about Wells.

Another inch for the pain that Finn had caused her.

Another inch for all the nightmares that haunted her about Mount Weather, about burning bodies, about living every day just to survive.

And Clarke Griffin took one more step toward Lexa, deciding that they did deserve better.

Her eyes fell to Lexa’s lips once again, and she was close enough to feel the air from Lexa’s lungs as she let out a sigh against her own mouth.

“Maybe I do,” she whispered into the small space between them.

Clarke’s eyes flicked back up to Lexa’s, dark and hooded with desire, her body unmoving until Clarke made the first move.

They deserved better, and this seemed as good a place as any to start.

Clarke swiftly snaked a hand through Lexa’s hair and around her neck, crushing their lips together. Clarke sought purchase of Lexa’s lower lip, wasting no time nipping at it gently and sucking it between her lips, her tongue darting out to swipe over it. Lexa’s arms wrapped around Clarke’s back, her hands clutching at her for dear life. It wasn’t gentle and delicate like the first time. It was open mouths and full of unspoken promises and months of anticipation. Lexa’s tongue begged entrance to Clarke’s mouth, and she opened up for her willingly, letting Lexa take control of the kiss.

They deserved better, and this was definitely a good place to start.

It was Lexa who finally pulled back, her hands still clutching Clarke tightly, and she rested her forehead against the blonde’s.

I haven’t stopped thinking about doing that again since the first time,” Clarke whispered into the silence between them.

“Even after—“

“Yes.”

In all her time spent in solitary up on the Ark, dreaming and drawing of what life was like on the ground, Clarke had never drawn in Lexa. In the same way Lexa had never imagined a girl falling out of the sky, Clarke never saw Lexa coming.

Despite the war and ruin around them, she was so much better than any fantasy Clarke had ever dreamed up as a child, romanticizing what the ground could be like.

“Lexa, I want you.”

Lexa pulled back a bit to look Clarke in the eyes, almost as if to make sure it was all real.

“But this world is literally insane,” Clarke continued, “and I don’t want either of us to become targets just because we’re together.”

Lexa smiled and leaned in, whispering against Clarke’s lips, “Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op.”

Oh.

_Attack her and you attack me._

Clarke pressed her lips against Lexa again briefly, just because she could. Just because she wanted to.

“You said that when we were attacked in the forest.”

Lexa nodded. “And it still stands now. Now more than ever.”

“Lexa—“

“A very wise girl once fell out of the sky and came to tell me that we deserve to do more than just survive.”

Clarke was the one to pull back this time, taking in Lexa’s strong jawline, her cheekbones, more noticeable than usual as she smiled, and her eyes, now soft with affection.

“We’ll figure it out, right?”

Lexa nodded. “We always do.”

“ So for my people, then?”

“For _our_ people.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos. Comments. Etc. Won't even beat around the bush- I just want this fandom to be my friend.


End file.
